Embracing the Dark
by JessieRose
Summary: Hermione has found out the past sixteen years of her life have been a lie. Now she knows who she truly is. Will she embrace this destiny and step over to the Dark Side?
1. Chapter One

A_/N Okay so this is very different to what I normally do, and very AU! It's Hermione centric, dark Hermione. She joins the Dark Lord and together they fight, will she realise before it is too late that her heart lies else where? I'm only going to continue with this if I get some good feedback and people want me to. Okay so here it is. _

Embracing the Dark 

Prologue

Hermione was offered her wildest dreams set on a silver guilded platter plate before her very eyes. How could she turn it out, when it was only a few finger clutches away? Her breath came out in uneven bursts of delight and misery as she battled with her conscious. It wasn't a question of good versus evil any more, in truth it never had been. It was a matter of strength, of power. Had she the will to refuse the gift that lay before her? 

She stared up resolutely into the snake eyes of Lord Voldemort, himself. She was about to push the plate of dreams away. But one should never knock a gift horse in the mouth. She was about to turn away, walk out, and rejoin Harry. Ah, her one weakness, the one fatal attachment that still hold sway over her corrupt heart. Dearest Harry, she thought, wondering desperately if he was thinking of her in return. 

Lord Voldemort grinned. He knew her mind, and what she was thinking. He saw her weakness, but to him Harry Potter was already dead. 

But why would he be thinking of her? He had Cho, he had Dumbledore, Ginny, Ron, he had all of them on his side. She shook her head, as though shaking away the very remnants of the tattered threads that still bound their hearts. 

It was horrifying to think how this attractive young girl, who had so much going for her found herself forced to the Dark Side. But she had. Her fingers stretched out in the darkness, she was reaching for it. 

Beside Voldemort stood a snivelling Wormtail, who was cradling a wound in his shoulder. It had been a vicious battle and the survivors were few in number, and plentiful in spirits. He could still smell the fear and blood through his inflamed nostrils, and now so much rested upon the greed of a seventeen year old girl. 

"Your parents died for this moment, take it with open arms." The master's quiet, convincing voice penetrated her brain, forcing her to look up at him. 

He smiled. "I offer you everything." 

Wormtail shifted slightly on his feet, he was nervous, distinctly nervous. What if the girl rejected the Lord's offer? Her hand reached out further, her fingers shaking slightly. But not from fear, it was like a mad excitement had taken over her entire being. She didn't know what was going to happen next, nor did she care. She reached out and took the amulet that lay on the platter plate. 

Voldemort smiled softly to himself, enjoying his own private joke whilst the rat which stood by his side, twitched in anticipation. It could have all turned out different, but it didn't. 

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A/N Love it? Hate it? Please review and tell me. 


	2. Chapter Two

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A/N Okay, so this might not make much sense at first, but believe me it all ties in. Please review. ^_^ 

Chapter Two

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Seventeen Dark Years Ago. – The Beginning of our Tale. 

The Dark Side was growing, the shadow that touched the ground was now so large it had engulfed the entire of England. There was not a single family, muggle or otherwise, who hadn't been touched by it. No one could run from it, hide or escape, it touched the lives of every mortal. These years were known as the Second Dark Age, and those who lived through it had many tales to tell. 

It seemed that the armies that tormented the good were too powerful to oppose, and spirits broke easier then bones. People knew they had to follow the Dark Lord, or suffer the consequences. Normally, this expression means death, but not it this case. Death was too easy for the victims of the Dark Lord. Too quick, and too simple. Their problems would be over in a matter of seconds. Instead the Dark Lord did, as was done hundreds of years ago, a purification act. There souls were cleansed of good by the pain they suffered before finally dying at the hands of his Death Eaters. 

Yet, some rose out of this, high in his esteem. Those who had once belonged to Slytherin House, those who thought muggles were no better then the dirt they walked on. Those who believed the Dark Lord was a saviour. Indeed, there were some who followed him like a god, whether this was from fear or love, it is uncertain, but they followed like a horde of rats. 

And so it seemed no one remained who could challenge Him, He had warn down the entire resistance, reduced his enemies to a lifeless heap, and still the desire for more power ate away inside of Him. But he was wrong, he underestimated the determination, the will for freedom that exists in every caged being. He did not see the attack coming from Hogwarts. It was just a school, full of adolescent children, who cared nothing for politics and ruling, and the occasional teacher that felt strongly on the subject but dared not voice an opinion. He did not bank on the strength of Albus Dumbledore. 

Tom Marvolo Riddle, as he had once been known, had suffered a difficult life. His childhood days had been spent residing in a gritty orphanage that supplied neither essentials nor comforts. He passed through Hogwarts as a clever Slytherin student, who worked hard and well, interested in the Dark Arts, but who wasn't? Nothing to show cause for alarm. 

It was after he left that school that something happened to him. He disappeared from the public eye, touring the world. He found darkness hidden away in many corners, darkness he could wield to his power. 

He resurfaced as the dreaded, and feared Lord Voldemort, a name that would inspire chills into the hearts of his enemies. Many supporters came quickly, they saw a fresh power, that looked sure to succeed and were ready to back. Others took longer to adapt to the idea, some were confuzzled by the wand of the Dark Lord himself. But through whatever method, his supporters came quickly and in plentiful numbers. 

But with supporters will always come those opposed. Dumbledore led them in a secret organisation called the Order of the Phoenix. 

A young woman of about twenty six years bobbed her head slightly. Her auburn bushy hair knotted down her back, her face had grubby dirt marks stretching across it, and a smile revealed slightly yellowing teeth. Beside her stood her husband, he was quieter, more reserved, and willing to take a back seat, in view of his wife. 

"We have them, My Lord." She said, silkily. 

He smiled, cruelly. "Dumbledore and his Order shall be crushed." He hissed, as a snake slithered out of nowhere. The woman did not flinch at the sight of the enormous beast, that seemed to float across the floor. In fact she hardly gave it a glance. 

She turned and smiled to her husband, he caught her hand. "Dumbledore talks of killing members of your society, my liege. He believes that Azkaban is no longer a safe hold for those they apprehend." 

The Dark Lord did not look up. 

"Sir?" She persisted, stepping forward, her husband pulled her back, she dropped his hand. 

He stood up, and stared at her through his thin slit eyes. "What are you suggesting?"

She stared down at the floor. "We should save them, get them out of there." 

"They were foolish enough to get caught I shall not waste time saving them."

"But my Lord. . ." 

"Enough!" 

Murka and her husband bowed and left. They knew better then to argue their point forward. They apparated back to their cosy London apartment. 

"You okay?" He asked her.

She nodded. "It's nothing. It's just I'd want to be saved, if I was caught."

"You won't be." He laughed, throwing off his cloak. It landed neatly on the hook. 

"You will be careful at the Order's meeting?" She asked. "Last time. . ."

"I am not a great speaker Murka, and Dumbledore was pressurising me, it was a mere slip of the tongue, nothing else."

"You are lucky he did not find out." She said, almost threateningly. 

"You mean I am lucky you did not tell Him." He spoke stiffly. 

The relationship of the two was certainly a strange one. Normally they were very cold and distant from each other. Murka hated a display of emotions, she thought things through before acting. In fact gripping his hand when in front of the Dark Lord had been an action which had shocked herself. She had not meant to do it, and felt foolish for doing so, But it had been a comfort, a reassure, to be aware of his presence beside her. And although he did not speak, she felt he was agreeing with her. 

He flicked his wand across the room, opening the blinds and letting light pour into the room, revealing the mess of the lounge. There were books littered across the lamented floor, absently flicking their pages, papers littering the table, and a fierce looking cat shedding hairs all over the couch. 

Herbert sat down, and, with the tips of his fingers, stroked it's head. The feline purred softly. 

Murka, however, could not rest so easily. She clattered around the kitchen, banging pots and pans in an attempt to make sense of everything she had just heard. 

At exactly eight o'clock, an alarm went off. It was not attached to anything, and sounded like it was coming from deep within. It worked, in theory, similar to the Dark Mark. When Dumbledore wanted to summon to Order for a meeting he would ring the alarm. There were a few glitches, such as one could be walking down a muggle street and suddenly start ringing out this loud tune. At least the Dark Mark did not make a sound, and was not visible to those around you. 

Herbert got up slowly, causing the cat to slide down from his knee. 

"Remember, watch your tongue!" She barked as he left the house. 

And that was there relationship, when he left the house it was not a cherished goodbye, but a reminder of the dangers of speaking out of turn. And that was the age the Forsters lived in. An age of great pain and misery, fear and shadow. The Second Dark Age.


	3. Chapter Three

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AN Please Review!! ^_^ 

Chapter Three. 

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The Tale Continues.

Murka sat in her gloomy lounge and stared at the dark walls, waiting for her husband to return. True there was no love lost between the two, and Murka could think of a thousand other things she could have been doing. But the very darkness of the age they lived in her chilled her to the bone. Her husband was playing both sides for fools, and neither Dumbledore nor the Dark Lord would be impressed by his conduct. He would be shunned and killed by both sides should either find out. 

She sat in the dark, in silent contemplation of her next job. What the dark Lord asked was surely impossible. How could they act on a prophesy that had not yet come clear, a prophesy that had only just been made? And how he could take such a woman seriously was beyond Murka's understanding. But the Dark Lord took any threat against him seriously, regardless of it's size or who was behind it. She sat for a few minutes more in the dark, when the cat came purring around her ankles. She gave it a gentle push with her toe, she had no time for sentimentally petting Vodka. 

Suddenly her arm began to burn and she sat up in horror. Vodka watched through his green eyes as she pulled up her sleeve and revealed the burning Dark Mark. Her heart began to flutter as she jumped up and threw on her cloak. 

"He's done something stupid, I just know it. He's been caught." She shouted to the empty room. "He's dead, he's left me to face the music, the selfish git!" She said, as she gathered herself up in the middle of the room. 

After a fearful look at the cat, she took a deep breath and apparated to the side of her Master. 

"My Lord?" She inquired, kneeling by his side, her shaking hands gripping his cloak.

He smiled at her. "Murka? Rise."

She stood up, awkwardly. "You called?"

He nodded. "There is something I need doing tonight, I was going to ask your husband, but I believe he is at his Order meeting."

She bobbed her head slightly, not daring to look into his face. She wrought some determination from inside, and raised her head. She couldn't let Herbert down, she couldn't ruin everything now. 

"I need someone to accompany Severus to Conifer's Grove." 

She had been at the earlier assembly, and knew exactly what he was referring to. It was not exactly her line of work, especially not with Severus, but no one refused the Dark Lord. 

Out of the shadows a tall black figure emerged, cloaked and frowning, Severus Snape stood before her. 

They walked off together, after bowing to their master.

"How did I end up working with you?" She demanded, as she disapparated.

"Just lucky I guess." He retorted, as he followed suit. 

They appeared together down a thin narrow path, lit only by a single flickering lamp post. Murka stuffed her wand inside her pocket with a scowl. 

"Lead the way." She said, stepping aside, unwilling to admit ignorance. 

"Don't mess this up." He said, softly.

"If there is any messing up, I assure you it will come from your wand and not mine." She retorted. 

"Let's got one thing straight. I'm in charge. You do exactly what I say." He said, putting out his arm to halt Murka's passage. 

She nodded slowly. "Yes, master." was her reply, as she pushed past him.

"Look I'm not trying to be funny. It's our lives that will be lost if we fail." 

"I know." She said. "But I'm sure the Dark Lord could dispense of you far easier then me."

He frowned as she stepped ahead of him, and out into the dim street. It wasn't a very cultured place, nothing compared to the last residence Snape had attacked. The paint from the doors was peeling, the gates hanging off, and the grass was more of a jungle then a lawn. Several windows were boarded in, and a gang of drunken eighteen year olds were standing on the corner. 

Murka walked passed them without a glance, whereas Snape paused for a second. 

"Wha' yer lookin' at?" was the remark, from a particularly irritable youth. 

Murka rolled her eyes as she took hold of his arm and led him away. "I suggest you don't get involved in a muggle fight, you'll end up getting taken away by the 'police'. Then you'll have to explain why you are wearing a cloak and have a wand in your pocket." She hissed. 

He pulled free of her. "I am not a coward like you, besides I have enough brains to use my magic to my advantage."

"And be front page of the papers tomorrow? Look, you're right there is a lot at stake tonight, and I don't want to blow it." She said.

He nodded. "At least we agree on something." 

She almost smiled. "So what number?"

"Five. But it doesn't look like these houses have numbers." He remarked, staring at the nearest door. 

"So it seems, well we'll just have to count. Now how do these muggle streets work again?" She asked, as she began to move along. 

They counted along and found the right house. It was almost midnight, when they silently sprung open the front door. The sight that greeted their eyes even made Snape stop in amazement. What had looked a complete dump from the outside was a well-furnished and large modern house on the inside. The hall was elegantly painted and the stairs bordered by an ornately carved banister. 

They headed towards the stairs when the chatter of soft voices emerged from the living room. Murka stepped back, she had never done this before. 

Snape noted her reluctance with a smirk. He stepped forward and pushed open the door, whilst Murka waited outside. There was a cry of surprise, and the low screaming of a terrified woman. 

As she stood there a new sound mingled with the voices from the lounge, the cry of a baby. It was coming from upstairs. After a final look towards the living room, to check Snape didn't need any help, she set one foot on the stairs, took a deep breath and walked up.

It didn't take her long to find the source of the noise, in a beautiful nursery, there was a tiny baby sleeping in a large cot. It was only a few weeks old. She picked it up, and rocked it in her arms, trying to stop it's sobbing. 

"Shush." She said, almost harshly. She was in fact annoyed at herself for not having the guts to go into the living room with Snape. She had stood outside and listened whilst he tackled it himself. 

A hand fell on her shoulder, and she screamed.

"Snape." She said, angrily.

"It's all sorted. . ." He began, but his voice dropped at the sight of the tiny baby in Murka's arms. 

"What should we do with her?" She asked.

He sighed. "The Dark Lord told us to kill all those in the house."

She shook her head, gently. "The sins of the fathers should not be rested on the children. She's a few weeks old!" 

Snape tried to take the child from Murka's arms, but the woman stepped back. "Look we killed the traitors, we done what we came to do. But I'm not having this on my conscience."

"What do you mean _we_? You didn't do much."

"This child could grow to be a servant of the Dark Lord, not an enemy."

"You're going to adopt it?" He sneered, as the battering cries of the infant ceased.

"Hell no!" Murka cried. She set her down back in the cot. "The police'll find her." She said, simply. 

Severus smirked. "So if anyone asked, we didn't come upstairs."

"Better act stupid then kind, eh?"

He nodded. "Come on then, let's get back." 


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four. 

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The Tale Commences. . .

The police weren't alerted that night about the attack, it was not the neighbourhood watch type of street. In fact it wasn't until the next day when they were investigating a drugs allegation against the resident of the house next door that they discovered the baby.

The two bodies were removed from the living room, and taken away in an ambulance for a post-mortem examination, which revealed a heart attack, nothing more, nothing less. 

But a journey up the stairs brought to light the tiny child that still lay crying in it's cot. She was hungry, and suffering from the cold, but after a couple of days in the care of a local hospital and she sparked up. 

"She's made such a wonderful recovery." One of the nurses commented. "There is something almost magical about this child." 

The house was reopened, and sold. The families that lived there, however, did not remain long in those cursed walls. The smell of death never left the living room no matter how many air fresheners were sprayed. And the room where the baby had been found was never light, the sun refused to shine through the windows, and the light fittings denied a glowing bulb no matter how many electricians were called out. 

"She's such a strange baby." Sally, the nurse muttered to herself, as she lay the girl back in her cot. The lights in the ward flickered out, but the child was already asleep. "Night, night. . ." She whispered. 

Later on in the evening Sally was having a drink in the pub with her friends Louise and Michael Granger, the newly weds as they were known in affectionate circles. 

"Poor child, doesn't look like she'll be leaving soon." Sally said, as she sipped her drink.

"Why what's wrong with her?"

"Well, she's an orphan now, and with no one left to look after the poor critter. No family have come forward to claim her, and we can't trace any contacts." Sally said. 

Louise shook her head. "Poor kid." They raised their glasses and drank. The baby wasn't mentioned again that evening. But the seeds of an idea had been sowed into Louise's head, and Sally's words weren't needed to water them. Already it was beginning to flower before her eyes. 

That night Louise sat down beside her husband, and took hold of his hand.

"You know we talked about fostering?" She asked, soothingly.

He looked at her in surprise. "It was just an idea, Lou, we have plenty of time to have our own children."

She shook her head. "You know that can never be. I just want to be able to look something, have something dependent on me, to hold it in my arms and feel the love. . ."

"We could get a dog, a nice Jack Russell." 

"Michael, I don't want a dog, I want a baby."

He sighed, and clasped her hand even tighter. "It's not something you can keep the receipt for and take it back for a refund, Lou." 

She snatched her hand away. "I know perfectly well what it is. It's a job for life, Michael. But I'm ready."

"Are _we _ready?" he asked.

"What?"

"I don't want a baby to come between us." 

"It won't." She insisted. "I've always wanted a child, Michael. Always." 

"Our own child, not somebody else's." 

"Mike, we've talked about this. You know we can't. . .the doctor said there is little chance of me ever conceiving. Now if I can give a neglected child the chance to have a good life then who are you to deprive it?" She asked.

"Let's talk about his later." He said, clenching his teeth together. 

"Fine, if that's the way you feel." She said, getting up from the sofa.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"To bed." She said, firmly.

He sighed and let her go. She could be very stubborn at times, but taking on a baby was a very big thing. Say she got attached to it, and then family came along and took the critter away, she'd be far more heartbroken then. He nodded to himself, he was certain he was doing the right thing. Louise often went through these little phases, he was sure she'd grow out of the idea of wanting children. Just like she grew out of her kit-kat obsession. 

"You shouldn't have left the baby." Her husband chided.

Murka looked up from where she was sitting on the sofa. Vodka jumped off and began licking her paws in an elegant way.

"What are you talking about, Herbert?" She demanded.

He threw a muggle newspaper down in front of her. 

BABY IN CONIFER'S GROVE

A young married couple in the rundown Conifer's Grove, apparently seemed so in love that even a heart attack could not separate them. The couple, George Havvisham, and his wife Maria suffered from simultaneous heart attacks a week ago. 

The police, called out to an unrelated incident, found the door wide open, and two bodied in the living room. A baby only a month old was found upstairs. The police are now looking for any relatives of the Havvishams' to come forward. Otherwise the baby will be fostered. . .

The article went on to talk about other incidents occurring in the Grove, including the youths throwing bottles at cars, and throwing firecrackers at pedestrians. 

"It won't do any harm." She persisted. 

"The Dark Lord will not be pleased with your conduct." He said, coldly. 

"I knew nothing about the baby!" She insisted, throwing the newspaper back at him. 

"Dumbledore talks about getting a member of the Order to adopt her. That way we can ensure that the sacrifice of her parents did not lay to rest. How ironic if he selected us."

She glared at him. "I tell you, I knew nothing."

"In which case you should be punished for not checking round the house. It means you only did half a job."

She jumped up and grabbed hold of his cloak. "The Dark Lord shall be very angry with me." She said, frantically. 

"Who was with you?" He asked. 

"Snape." 

"Then it was Snape's job to check upstairs." He said, firmly.

She smiled, wickedly. "So it was. And I was worried about nothing." She sat back down. "Are you off to the Order?" 

He nodded.

"Make sure we don't end up with the little brat."

He didn't smile. "Make sure you never do anything like this ever again." 

Her husband was stern, he hated it when she provided a danger to their position. How foolish allowing sentiment to get involved. Snape would most probably get a flogging now, but as long as he wasn't connected, it didn't matter. He took one last look at his wife, stroking that impertinent cat, before apparating into nothingness.

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A/N Please tell me what you think so far! Thank you!! ^_^ 


	5. Chapter Five

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A/N Next chapter. Please review and tell me what you think. Thanks. 

Chapter Five. 

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The Tale goes on. . .

Louise groaned as a chilling cry pierced the night. Michael continued to snore from her side. She prodded him softly. 

"Your baby is crying."

He mumbled, and turned over before continuing to snore. The baby's cry just got louder. Louise grimaced as she glanced at the alarm clock. Three o'clock. The bed vanished from beneath her as she mustered the energy to clamber up. "I'm coming!" She crocked. 

She waddled into the small room, and crept up to the cot. The baby, whom Michael had called Hermione, was screaming in her crib. 

"Oh sweet heart." Louise said, bending down to pick her up. She sat down on the rocking chair, and gently rocked the lustrous baby into a doze. Her tiny hands clung to Louise's silk night-gown, and her heart went out to the dependent being. She stroked her soft, tufty head and closed her eyes. Michael found her the next morning, still asleep in the chair. 

"Louise, don't get too attached to Hermione." He warned her, as they sat down to breakfast.

"Why?" His wife demanded, protectively. 

He sighed. "Her real family may come forward to claim her."

"We are her family, and besides she's not a missing item that can be filed and claimed." Louise said, angrily, as she banged his cereal down in front of him.

"See, she is coming between us." He said, softly.

"Hermione needs me more then you do." Louise said, curtly, as she turned sharply and retreated into the kitchen. 

His hand went to his head as he pushed the bowl away. For some reason he wasn't hungry. 

Murka apparated into the kitchen, almost on top of a sleeping Vodka. She was in such a bad mood, that she kicked it away with her booted foot. The cat screeched angrily as it dashed from the room. She regretted it afterwards. She didn't have a problem with torturing and killing enemies of her master, but when it came to Vodka, she had a soft spot. Her husband was beside her within seconds, far more calm then his wife. 

"Did you see Snape?" She asked, it was something that had been bothering her for weeks. Snape had gone missing. 

Her husband shrugged, brushing the matter aside. It seemed so unimportant in light of the recent events. Murka felt this too, but talking about Snape meant they didn't have to talk about the pressing question 'what to do next?'

"I haven't seen him for weeks, you don't think this has got anything to do with the Conifer's baby?" She said, pouring herself a drink.

"What?" He said, suddenly, looking up. His wife's aimless rambling had interrupted his thoughts. "What are you going on about now?" 

She glared at him. "I was just saying about Snape. . ."

He sighed. "We have far more important things to worry about then him." 

She nodded, and swigged the drink. 

"Now this Potter boy. . ." Her husband began.

"I thought the Lord said it was nothing to worry about."

"He is clearly concerned, otherwise he would not have brought up the matter. You know the prophecy He talks of, it must have something to do with this Potter boy."

"He'd be about the same age as that girl." She whispered to herself.

"What?" He demanded, harshly. His wife's lack of interest astonished him. If this fell through it meant a life time in Azkaban for them all.

"I was just thinking, they'll end up going to school together."

He smirked at her. "I don't think so. The way He was going on tonight, He is planning something with this boy." 

Murka nodded. "He has not asked for anyone's assistance."

"He is doing this himself. And in the meantime. . ."

She nodded again. "I know, I must go and see Peter, collect any information off him. Why he cannot come to us. . ."

"If he is seen any where near us Dumbledore would smell a rat straight away."

Murka burst into a smile. She just couldn't help it. "Was that pun intended?"

"What?" Her husband asked for the third time that evening. 

"Never mind." She threw off her cloak, and instead donned a muggle coat. "Why I have to meet him in a muggle pub, I don't know." She sighed. Her wand was removed from her cloak and she stuffed it hastily into her pocket.

"Remember Pettigrew is a slippery character, he'll do his best to tie you in knots."

"I remember Pettigrew being that dense little boy who use run around after Potter and co."

Her husband narrowed his eyes. "That is your one mistake Murka, you underestimate the enemy." 

She smiled. "I know what I'm doing." 

As she disappeared from the room, Vodka peeped her head back round. 

Murka appeared down an alley way just opposite the meeting place. She flattened her hair, and pulled her coat tighter around her body, it was a cold night. She crossed the street, pulled open the door, and walked in. 

She shuddered as the noise greeted her. It was the sound of muggles. Her master promised to rid the world of this scum, she reminded herself, as she mustered up the strength to order a drink. She stayed close to the bar, not wanting to 'mingle' with the muggles.

"Can I get you a drink?" Asked an impertinent voice.

Thinking it was Peter she turned round to shout at him for being late. "Peter. . ." But instead a youngish man stood before her. His spiky hair had seen better days, and his clothes looked like he'd crawled out of bed in them. 

"No." She said, quickly. 

He looked affronted by this blatant refusal. "Just the one?" He wheedled. 

"My boyfriend will be here in a minute." She told him, after a sudden spark of imagination. Oh this dreadful pub, she thought. 

"Surely he won't object to two friends having a quiet drink?" He insisted.

"I am sure he wouldn't, but I neither class you as a friend, or this pub as quiet." She said, briskly, looking at her watch. If he wasn't here in five minutes she was leaving. 

He grinned, not daunted by her cold words. "I like an assertive woman." 

She couldn't help a laugh. "You might find me rather more assertive then you think." 

"Why not blow of this boyfriend, and come for a meal with me?" He asked. It had always been Vernon Dursley's belief that he could charm the ladies. 

She sighed. "No, besides you'll be dead soon." She said, swigging the rest of her drink, before banging the glass down on the bar. 

"Here's my number, if you change your mind." He said, scrolling down the eleven digits on a receipt. He hadn't noticed her rather odd remark. She pocketed it to prevent an argument. And besides if he didn't go soon she would have been awfully tempted to pull out her wand. Just being close to a muggle was enough to make her skin crawl. 

"Ah, Peter!" She said, angrily, when he finally chose to show up.

"Sorry." He mumbled. "Remus' birthday, couldn't get away."

She narrowed her eyes. "If you find your friends a more important occupation, maybe you are in the wrong line of work." She hated herself afterwards, she sounded just like her husband. 

"I cannot abandon them completely."

"They would smell a rat?" She inquired.

He didn't reply.

"So, what news of the Potters?"

"Dumbledore knows that the Dark Lord is looking for them." 

She groaned. "How?"

"Dumbledore has many ways and means." He said, holding out his grubby hand. 

"If you think you are getting paid for that snivelling bit of information, then you have another thing coming, Pettigrew!" She cried. 

He scowled at her. "The protections surrounding him are great. You will not break them." He sneered.

"Your doubts will be voiced to the Dark Lord, I assure you. You know what happens to those who doubt him."

Peter looked up. Enough playing round. He nodded. "Okay, Dumbledore has suggested a secret keeper to safe house the Potter's whereabouts." 

Murka smiled nastily, impatiently. They were so close now. "Yes. . .yes?" 

He said nothing.

"Who is the secret keeper?" She could smell the success. 

"That has not been decided yet." 

"You'll let us know?" She asked sharply. 

He smiled. "I might do."

She threw a selection of galleons on the bar table. The couple near to them watched them suspiciously. He gathered them up greedily. She leant over the table and grabbed the scruff of his neck. 

"Don't play us for a fool, Peter!" She said, menacingly. 

"Well, if that's all!" he said, pulling out of her grip. "I think I'll be getting back to my friends."

"Friends?" She sniggered, cruely. "You are planning to betray them to the most powerful Lord our world has ever seen. And you still class them as friends? Interesting." She said, swigging down the rest of her drink.

He scowled at her as he marched from the pub.

She gathered up her things, and followed him, apparating from the darkened alley to her own black kitchen.

****

A/N Thanks for reading! 


	6. Chapter Six

A/N Just an average chapter really, thanks for reading and liking it enough to get to this chapter, please leave a review at the end. Response to Reviewers: -

Jbfritz - Thanks for your review! I wrote it for that reason!

Morgain Lestrange - Thanks, glad you like it!!

: ) - Thanks! You rock too!

Szihuoko - Yeah, the baby is Hermione! Thanks for reading.

Chapter Six

Louise strode the room, chattering to the crying baby in her arms. Hermione was such a difficult child, she blatantly refused to sleep. But Louise equally refused to give up. This was all she had ever wanted from her life. Her hard working husband, her dentistry degree, and now a tiny baby she could care for and make her own.

"Maybe she's missing her parents." She said, softly to her husband as he sat watching.

"I thought we were her parents." He reminded her.

"I meant her real parents." She said, rather dejectedly. True, she loved the baby, but it was hard to forget that she was not her real mother.

He sighed and stepped up to her side. "Louise she's only a couple of months, it's perfectly natural for her to cry a lot. But if you want we can take her to the doctors tomorrow and see if there is anything physically wrong."

Louise smiled. "Thanks, I don't know what I'd do without you."

"No, I don't either." He laughed.

* * *

Meanwhile Murka and Herbert were sat in less then tranquillity. They had just returned from the Dark Lord, and he presented them with rather bad news. Peter's ego had out grown his worth, and what he was demanding for the feeble information he supplied was far too excessive.

"I found out as much as I could, it is not my fault if Pettigrew decided to up the wages!" She grumbled. "I can hardly curse him in front of a pub of muggles."

"This is what happens when they send a woman to do a man's job." He replied, coldly.

"And what would you have done? Revealed your self to the whole un-magic world?" She demanded, angrily, stroking a purring Vodka.

He didn't answer. And for a while they sat in silence. Eventually, he pushed himself up with a grumble and donned his coat.

"Where you off to?" She barked, startling Vodka.

"Dumbledore's meeting." He murmured.

Her eye brows raised. "You seem to be spending a lot of time with Dumbledore, surely he can't have a meeting this often?!" She exclaimed.

Her husband chose to ignore her as he disappeared from the room.

"I bet he's got another woman Vodka. I bet he has!" She complained, shrilly. "Well, two can play at that game." She plunged her hand into her coat pocket and pulled out a ragged piece of paper. On it was the scribbled number of Vernon Dursley, that rather persistent muggle from the pub.

* * *

The rain beat down, striking the windows in a noisy fashion. Louise looked up in alarm.

"It's been raining like this ever since she started crying this morning." She muttered softly.

"It's just a coincidence," Mike laughed.

"Well, I wasn't suggesting that she had magical powers. I was just hoping I could take her for a walk, but the rain doesn't look like it is prepared to stop." Louise replied, as she cuddled Hermione close to her chest.

The efforts of looking after a young baby was certainly putting a strain on their marriage, but nothing they couldn't pull through. They argued more often, and yet seemed to spend less time with each other, but as the days wore on, Mike became more and more attached to the baby. And there soon reached a time when he loved her more then his wife did. She wasn't a normal child, she was special.

Louise passed the crying Hermione to her husband, and Mike tried to distract her tears with a squeaky toy. Louise threw herself down in a chair, and switched on the television. The picture wasn't good due to the rain, but she could just make out the blipping figure of the newsreader, and hear his words scratchily through the speakers.

"What you doing?" Mike asked.

"Trying to get the weather forecast." She replied, shortly.

"…this death has once again astonished the residents of Liverpool. A row of five houses were blown up late last night leaving the police and fire crews digging in the debris for survivors. So far none of the residents have been found alive…"

"Mike, Mike, listen to this!" Louise said, switching the volume up so as it could be heard over Hermione's lustful shrieks.

"The police remained baffled however as to the cause of the explosion. The electric's of all three buildings were in sound order, no evidence of fire has been discovered within the walls. It's almost as through the houses just fell down of their own accord. There is also no motive as to why anyone would want to blow up the houses, the five families have no obvious connections. Altogether, the explosion trapped seventeen people, all are presumed dead."

Louise switched the set off and turned to face her husband, Hermione had fallen silent.

"What's going on?" She asked. "First heart attacks, then murders, and now this? Whole streets being blown up?!"

Her husband just shook his head in despair, as he lay Hermione in her cot. "I don't know what to think."

"I'm scared, Mike. I really am scared. Something really strange is happening."

"It usually is." He said, at an attempt to be reassuring.

"But this is different, this is something we can't stop!" She persisted.

* * *

Murka watched the news through her muggle television set, she generally only used it for watching the news. Her mouth was open wide, in shock, as she stared up at the roof above her, as though expecting it to cave in. One of the houses had contained a family of Death Eaters, who hadn't quite met with the Dark Lord's approval, the other four just plain ordinary muggles. She didn't mind about them, but she had been quite friendly with Amanda Hilt and her husband.

Herbert stared as he entered the room. "Snape's back." He said, rather annoyed.

Murka hadn't heard, all her attentions were focused on the T.V. "It's a warning," She said, almost to herself. "He's showing us what happens if we go wrong."

"Huh?" He asked. "Oh that, they had it coming, Murka."

"What? And you don't? Which side are you really on, Herbert? Which side? 'cause I don't think you know!" She shouted, jumping up from the chair.

"I'm on the winning side, which ever one that is." He whispered, trying to be confident, but his words came out fearfully.

She sighed, and ran her hand through her hair. "Is Snape mad?" She asked.

He grinned. "It seems he's won back favour." He replied, sneering.

"I mean at me. Is he mad at me? Should I be expecting to wake up dead tomorrow? I mean it was me who stopped him killing that baby."

Her husband shook his head. "Nah, I don't think so. He's taken it all in his stride. He's working with Malfoy now, and you know how high up Malfoy is."

Murka nodded, rather absently.

"And his first assignment was to track down Peter." Herbert continued. "They found him, about a mile from Godric's Hollow. It seems the Potters have finally decided on a secret keeper."

"Oh, I can tell you exactly who that would be. Either Sirius, Remus, or Lily's rather ogerous friend Yvonne."

"Exactly?" Herbert sneered. "Oh no, I can tell you exactly who it is."

"Who?"

"Peter, himself."

"What? That lecherous little rat, who sells his friends for less then ten galleons? No way, the Potters would not be stupid enough!" She remarked in protest.

"He's their attempt at a decoy." He explained.

"And he will lead the Dark Lord straight to the Potters?"

"That, or he will die."

A/N Hopefully it's getting better? Please review!


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